


The Keepers Of Eden

by Serendipity13



Category: Assassin's Creed, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serendipity13/pseuds/Serendipity13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Smith has been having dreams about Assassins, Templars, and Apples, of all things. He's not sure why hes having these dreams but he thinks it might have something to do with the people trying to break down his front door. An adventure of historic proportions awaits along with a shady company called Abstergo and a mysterious man with the greenest eyes he has ever seen. M/M Slash</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams, Templars, and...Apples?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've had this Supernatural/Assassins Creed crossover story idea rolling around in my head for a while now and I figured I might as well do something with it, so here it is. For the purposes of my universe Desmond isn't going to come into play at all. I'm going to try to get the dream sequences as close to historically accurate as I can but I apologize in advance for any craziness. Its not going to be 100% anyway due to the fact there are Assassins and Templars vying for control of an artifact from an advanced race of super humans. so eh...read on and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Oh yeah and unfortunately I don't own AC or Supernatural so I have no legal rights to either universe. But if I did Destiel would totally be cannon especially this season. Poor human Cas!

Paris, France 1530 A.C.

He stood, arms stretched out at his side for balance, on a small protrusion of stone at the top of the tall steeple of a cathedral that lay on the edge of La Riviere de Seine. The autumn wind whipped around him and caught underneath his hood pushing it down from around his head, letting his shoulder length black hair dance in the breeze.

His deep blue-eyed gaze swept out into the fading glow of the setting sun and the city of Paris sprawled out to meet it.

Thatch and stone rooftops spread out as far as his eyes could see, punctuated by rising steeples dotting the landscape.

He could see the oranges and yellows of the fields in the distance and hear the evening bells of the Notre-Dame de Paris ringing in the air. It really was a beautiful city.

Too bad he didn't have the luxury or the time to appreciate it while he was here. But this city held more than beauty for this man, it held a secret. A treasure hidden deep within its walls that if Grand Master De Poitous had his way, would see itself in his possession for all time.

He was here to make sure that did not come to pass.

He was here on a mission, the most important one of his young life. One that would rectify past wrongs and prove his life as an assassin hadn't been for naught.

He angled himself down slightly and glanced down into the streets below.

The city was alive with the people of Paris wandering to and fro trying to finish up their business outdoors before the darkness fell and the light around them faded. Women holding the hands of their children as they peered through windows glancing at the finery within, Men in robes gathered in groups at the base of the cathedral offering blessings to the masses.

The assassin stood on his perch high above the city watching the streets empty and the sun fall as the moon rose up to take her place.

It was a nice respite from the past few days of running, shadowing, and killing trying to find the information he needed.

He was finally able to find the name of a servant for the De Poitous family who would be willing to listen and report information, for a price of course. He was to meet him after dark in the alleyway behind the cathedral that was serving as his lookout point.

He scanned the rooftops and streets below for a soft landing point and found a straw cart.

Holding it in his gaze then taking a deep breath, feeling the wind and hearing the bells. He took a step forward, quickly and gracefully slicing through the air and hitting his target.

Not as soft as he would have liked, but better than nothing he supposed.

He scrambled out quickly, brushing the straw out of his hair as he lifted his hood back into place and headed toward the alley.

He stood waiting in the shadows for only a minute or two when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching and the squeak of metal as the lantern the man was holding swung in time with his steps.

He activated the mechanism to lower his blade and heard it 'snick' into place.

He stepped out of the shadows just as the man entered the narrow path and had his blade to his throat in the span of a few seconds. He peered out from underneath his cowl and looked into the mans surprised face.

A startled cry of "Mon Dieu!" rang in the air as the man swung his arms up in an attempt to protect himself.

"What is your business here!" demanded the dark-haired assassin. He knew who this man was supposed to be but one could never be too careful.

"Rien n'est vrae" The surprised man offered quickly, the light from his swinging lantern casting shadows on the walls of the surrounding buildings.

"Tout est permis" he gave in reply and nodded, apparently satisfied with the exchange.

"Rene de Liendes, I presume." The assassin said as he lowered his weapon and allowed his blade to return to its sheath on the inside of his wrist.

"Oui monsieur. You must be the Assassin, Augustin Nowack. I was told to expect you here. I was not told, however, I would receive a knife to my throat for my trouble." he replied with consternation.

"I apologize for my lack of civility, but one can never be too careful on nights such as these in this city."

"Think nothing of it again monsieur." Rene said as he raised the lantern in his left hand so that his face and Augustin's were now visible in the darkness. "I understand your position. It is wise to be cautious."

"Were you able to arrange transport for me out of the city once I have the Apple?"

"Oui, my son has tied a horse to a tree just outside of the south exit of the city. It is a young mare, very strong. He will take you where you need to go."

"Bonne" the assassin replied. "And what of its location? Did you manage to hear where they are keeping it?"

"Yes, but you must make haste. They are transporting it from its resting place in Le Grosse Tour tomorrow." Rene whispered urgently, his eyes glancing nervously around the darkened alleyway. "Tonight will be your only chance to retrieve it before it is taken across the sea."

Augustin reached into his coat and pulled out a small leather pouch and held it in front of him. The coins inside jingled with the movement.  
"Do you know of where they were planning to take it once it left Paris?"

Rene eyed the pouch greedily. "No monsieur, they have been very careful not to mention it when in the house. They are nervous of spies everywhere."

Augustin felt a small grin tug at the side of his mouth as he tossed the pouch to Rene. "And it seems they have cause to be."

The smaller man yanked the pouch out of the air with his right hand and held it tightly in his fist. He glanced down at it with a smile then lifted his head. "I do what I must to make a living monsieur. I feel no loyalty to those who would look down their noses at me. I may be a servant but I am not a fool."

"So it would seem. Thank you for assistance." Augustin gave him a nod and turned to leave. He reconsidered his hasty departure for a moment and stopped to turn his head and look back at Rene over his shoulder as he spoke, "Do not let them make you feel as if you are of less worth just because you have less wealth."

"Oui, monsieur. I am a proud French man, no one can convince me of anything I do not already believe." Rene said with a smile. He then turned and took off at a slow run out of the small alleyway.

Augustin turned and set off at a slow pace. He knew where he needed to be this night and he could tell by the moons placement in the sky he had a few hours yet before the sun would begin to rise so he was in no hurry.

He walked quietly down the narrow street, taking in the sights and sounds of the city that he had called his home for the past week.

It was almost completely dark in Paris at this time of night, the only light came from the full moon and the soft glow of candles burning through upstairs windows of the many houses that lined the streets. The stone streets were devoid of life at this late hour and his footsteps echoed all around him. 

The assassin could see the tall turrets of Le Grosse Tour in the distance and his heart sped up with anticipation as he thought of the task that lay before him.

It would be difficult to get the Apple from its resting place, he knew.

The Templars were not fools, no matter what else he might think of them.

The Grand Master himself did say he was wary of spies, so heavy resistance was to be expected.

Nothing he hadn't dealt with before, but thrilling in its execution nonetheless.

He slipped into an alleyway between two houses and spotted a large stack of wooden crates settled against the far end of the left-hand wall. That would do nicely.

He paused for a moment and closed his eyes.

He bowed his head and spoke in a hushed whisper, "I have found it Alaric. I know where it is, after all these years of searching, your death will not have been in vain. This I can finally promise to you."

He lifted his head and opened his eyes, his mind and body itching to begin his campaign he took a deep breath, let it fill his lungs, and released. He smiled into the night and began to run.

__________________________________________________________________

 

Castiel Smith opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the dim light of his barren bedroom. A thin veil of sweat covered his chest and forehead and upon further inspection he realized his sheets were damp as well.

"Great" he thought to himself. "Now I have to go to the laundry mat again." It would be the third time this week and all because of these damn dreams.

He started having them about five years ago out of no where. The first one was on the night of his twenty-first birthday. Nowhere near as vivid or as regular as they have been recently, mostly just flashes of things or feelings. A building, a blade, the feeling of flying through the air or bells ringing. He knew it was weird but he didn't really think too much about it. Strange though they were, they were never too frequent or inconvenient.

Until a few months ago anyway.

The dreams started becoming longer, more detailed. New parts being added time after time. Plus they were coming about every week.

Then twice a week.

And now three times.

Always the same one.

He's looking for something, an Apple apparently. Though he's not sure why a damn apple would be such a big deal. Especially to these Assassins, whoever the hell they were.

Freaking weird, seriously.

Now this new word Templar and a new name, Alaric. He's heard the word of course, Templar. Who hadn't? Everyone has seen National Treasure and The Da Vinci Code right? But what in the hell did they have to do with Assassins and Apples? Maybe he's fallen asleep on the couch watching the History Channel one too many times. He can't help it that MonsterQuest kicks ten kinds of ass.

But this Alaric...never heard of him.

Another name to add to the journal. Right there next to Rene de Liendes, Augustin Nowack, and De Poitous. Add that to the snippets of French that make its way into his subconscious and he could be writing some sort of cheesy mystery novel. He still can't remember when or why he started writing everything he could remember about the dreams in the little leather-bound journal he kept by his bedside, he just did one day and never stopped. He's had the damn thing since he was 17. Sister Anna gave it to him on his birthday. It has a cross embossed in silver on the front.

Kinda cheesy, but nice.

He never thought to write in it, hell he didn't even know he still had it until a few years after the first dream happened. The flashes were getting longer and he finally heard a name. He couldn't get that name, Augustin Nowack, out of his head so he figured he should write it down so he could Google it later. See if the world-wide web could shed some light on his little situation.

F.Y.I not even Google knew what the fuck was going on inside his head.

He had looked all over his tiny apartment for a notebook to no avail. Finally he thought to look under the bed. He found the journal in a box, covered in dust. Since then its been like a religion, if he believed in that sort of thing. Wake up in a cold sweat, catalog everything he could remember in his head, and write it down.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Nothing he could do to change it now, he supposed. He had some writing to do. Then he figured he might as well take a shower and get ready for another magical night of serving shitty drinks to shitty strangers for shitty pay. Lifestyles of the poor and perpetually unknown right here, Robin Leach could suck it. Then after he closed for the night he got to go do laundry, again.

Oh boy. Such fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it totally sucked but this is my first attempt at writing a longer story and definitely my first attempt at a crossover. I'm planning on posting more chapters as soon as they get written so please let me know if anyone will even want to read them. Reviews, thoughts, and feelings give me tummy wobbles. But only positive ones...haters can suck it.
> 
> Mon Dieu - My God  
> Rien n'est vrai - Nothing is true  
> Tout est permis: Everything is permitted  
> Oui monsieur - Yes, sir.  
> Bonne - Good


	2. Drinks and Thinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So here we go on to the next chapter. Enjoy...or try to anyway.  
> BTW I don't own AC or Supernatural in anyway so bummer on the whole Dean/Cas cannon thing. How can these boys not see how in love with each other they are, I mean really, come on! Gabriel is gonna be in this story too because I love him. I'm not going the whole brothers route like most stories I've read but he and Cas are going to be very close. Dean will show up in the next chapter I promise, then the fun shall begin. Reviews are much appreciated. I love those who love me! I don't have a beta or anything so all mistakes are my own.

Present Day, Maine 

Castiel backed his F4 CC Agusta into the lot beside the bar. He shut off the ignition and put the key into the pocket of his coat. He pulled the coat tighter around himself to block out the chill in the autumn air. He picked up the chain he left attatched to the iron fence that lined the parking lot and looped in through the back wheel, connecting each end with a combination lock. He may live in the small town asshole of southern Maine but he knew better than anyone, everywhere there were people and people everywhere stole shit. He sure as hell wasn't gonna make it easy for anyone. Especially when it came to his bike. 

This bike was the only thing of value he had really, and damn it she was a beauty. Cost him a hell of a lot too but his last job two years ago had pulled him in a hundred and thirty grand. What better way to remember his days as a kick ass master thief than with a motorcycle not even God himself could catch if he really opened her up.  
Castiel turned and began to walk the short distance to The Horseman Bar and Grill. A hole in the wall he had been condemned to after he went legit, gotta pay rent somehow and a man with his particular skill set had very few options.

Hell it wasn't as if he had much of a choice when it came to a career growing up anyway. Kids who are left abandoned on the front steps of a Catholic orphanage in Pennsylvania as an infant with no name or record of even existing aren't gonna become president of the United States.  
The nuns at St. Michaels did treat him well though. Sister Anna even gave him his name. She named him for the day they found him. Castiel, the angel of Thursday. He guessed they gave him the last name Smith because they already had too many Doe's. At least he got a best friend out of the deal, speaking of.

"Cassie!" rang out loud through the crowded room as Castiel opened the front door. Said best friend, Gabriel Godwin, gave him a large smile and an enthusiastic wave from his place behind the bar. Castiel raised a hand and offered an affectionate smile in response. 

Gabriel Godwin had been Castiel's best friend for the past nine years. Gabriel's parents died when he was seventeen and because he would be legal in a year and he had no other family they placed him in St. Michaels where he met Cas. They had been inseparable ever since.  
When they left St. Michaels a year later they headed to the place most people think they'll find success, New York City. They lived in a cramped apartment and worked dead end jobs for a while until they met Balthazar. 

Balthazar was a charming English man who filled their ears with promises of wealth in exchange for what started out as petty theft and escalated quickly into high scale robbery. By the time they were twenty-two they had managed to make quite a name for themselves in the world of organized crime as the two you went to when you wanted a high risk job done right. 

They worked like a well oiled machine.

Gabriel could talk almost any information out of anyone. He could finagle his way into the oval office if he really wanted to, Castiel figured, and sometimes he swore Gabriel had some sort of sixth sense that would tell him exactly where every person in a certain location would be at any given time and where they were going to be at any point in the future. ESP maybe, or just really good recon work, one could never tell with Gabe.

Castiel could get in and out of just about anywhere and never leave a trace. He had reflexes like a cat and he knew the exact where's and how's of a job before they even got there. It was just a skill he had, he could look at the blueprints of a house or a facility and it was instantly a solid picture in his mind. Every corridor and room, entry and exit, he could still walk every place they ever hit with his eyes closed.

But that part of his life was over now, no matter how good you were there were still close calls and Gabriel had saved his ass more times than Castiel would admit. Gabe finally convinced him to walk the straight and narrow, and though it took some convincing for Balthazar to let his two best requisitioners walk away, after one last heist that left everyone's pockets very full, walk away they finally did. Moving to a small town in Maine where no one knew them and they could start fresh.

That was two years and a lifetime ago.

Although it had been considerably safer, Castiel thought to himself, he missed it most days. Missed the thrill and the recognition of a job well done, but most of the time what he really missed was the money. Especially when his only source of income these days was this shit hole. But he had Gabe and his motorcycle so he guessed life wasn't complete shit, today anyway.

"Hello Gabriel" Castiel said as he lifted the partition and walked behind the bar. "You seem to be in a louder mood than usual, which is saying a lot. You haven't been in the peppermint schnapps again have you?"

"Why Cassie, you offend me!" Gabriel raised his hand to his heart "Why would you think I had to be drinking to be in a good mood?" 

"Umm because you work here?" Castiel replied as he began setting up a line of shots for the group of men at the end of the bar who looked as if they had had enough already but what the hell, they were only his problem if they started breaking shit.

Gabriel finished up making the dirty martini, two olives and slid it to the waiting woman with a wink. "Oh cynical much? Come on man, would it kill you to at least pretend to be happy? Come on give me a smile."

"I save smiles for my nights off." The dark haired man replied as he filled the shot glasses with Jim Beam and slid them one by one down the bar.

"I spend most off nights with you and therefore I can officially call bullshit. I hardly ever see you crack a smile anymore Cassie. You know what would turn that frown upside down?" Gabriel's eyebrows wagged and Castiel knew what was coming next.

Castiel placed the bottle of Beam back under the bar and turned to face the other man. "I know what you're going to say and no, I do not think meaningless sex with a random stranger will cure all that ails me Gabriel."

"Well how do you know if you've never tried it before?" Gabriel was currently flipping and tossing bottles into the air and catching them with ease as he prepared two drinks for a couple of women who just took up residence at his end of the bar. They didn't call him the Trickster for nothing.

"I just know alright. A one-night stand will do nothing but make me feel even worse about myself. I can't just be one of those people who has sex to have sex."

"Kinda like me you mean?" Gabriel said as he finished the drinks with a flair and handed them off to the very impressed looking women with a smile.

"You know I mean no offense, but I want it to mean something. I want some sort of connection that goes beyond that." Castiel sighed.

"I know Cassie, no hard feelings. But how are you supposed to find anything like that when all you do is work, sleep, and hang out with me?"  
He turned to put the bottles back into their places on the wall behind the bar and then flung an arm around the other mans shoulder. "I mean, I know I am astoundingly great company but ya gotta get out there."

"What's the point? I have nothing of value to offer anyone and I'm not very skilled in the art of dating as you well know."

"Ha, oh do I ever. I remember the disaster date that wasn't. What was his name again, Zeke?"  
A chill went though Castiel as he remembered that. Poor Zeke, he never should have let Gabe talk him into going to that Indian restaurant. A shared night in the E.R with a severe case of food poisoning does not a second date make.

"Yes it was Zeke, and I appreciate the flashbacks. I will never be able to smell curry again without a trashcan in the near vicinity." he huffed, pinning an ice cold glare in Gabriel's direction. 

"How was I supposed to know the place was a death trap?" Gabriel threw his hands up in innocence. "I never ate there personally but that girl with the amazing ass, what was her name, Tali, said it was awesome."

"Well it's good to know you get your culinary advice from women you pick up at work." Castiel replied as shrugged out from under the arm around his shoudler and took out a rag to wipe down the bar. "The confidence it instills is staggering."

"Ah don't hate me cause you ain't me" 

Castiel stopped wiping and closed his eyes in frustration. He shook his head. "Never say that again." 

Gabriel grinned and let out a loud laugh slapping his hand onto Castiel's shoulder causing him to open his eyes and look at the other man, he could feel a small smile work its way unbidden onto his face. "Your breath smells like peppermint by the way."

Gabriel stopped laughing long enough to let a surprised look cross his face before he started chuckling again. "Now that my dear friend, is entirely beside the point."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Castiel's Bike](http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2008/07/27/automobiles/fondo-bianco_-tre-quarti-fr.jpg)


End file.
